"Give God the thanks, Lanky!" said McKeel solemnly, "an' me, as the humble eenstrument."
"I'll never forget your kindness, Mr. McKeel, never!"
"I'll tak' a little brandy, jist to steady ma nerves after this excitin' nicht," said McKeel. He reached over for the bottle. "Losh! it's empty. It's as toom as a whistle!"
"Has he dronk de whole bottle?" Max asked.
"Every drap!" McKeel replied; "so, if he's drunk, nae wonder, but that does not dimeenish the vertues o' the ammonia."
Lanky staggered to his feet, and tottered to Annie. When he reached her his legs became entangled and gave way. He sank into a chair beside her. His mind and tongue were sober, but his legs were intoxicated.
"You are mine now, Annie! You said you loved me, and you promised to marry me."
"Yes, Tim," said Annie, with a simper.
"Then we'll get out o' this. When I'm in the open air, an' souse my head in a bucket of water, I'll be all right. That ammonia did the trick, Mr. McKeel!"
"I declare!" said Mr. McKeel, "the feelin's o' the patient is mair tae be relied on than a' the opeenions o' the doctors."